


Sinner's Elixir

by Clairanette



Category: Original Work
Genre: Abuse, Addiction, Blood, Blood and Torture, Blood and Violence, F/F, Fantasy, Fantasy Pirates, Humiliation, Magic, Master/Slave, Pirates, Public Humiliation, Rape, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sex Addiction, Sexual Slavery, Situational Humiliation, Slavery, Slaves, Technically a spinoff, Torture, Verbal Humiliation, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-28
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:41:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27766156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Clairanette/pseuds/Clairanette
Comments: 12
Kudos: 60





	1. Chapter 1

“Looks like you're at the end of your rope, Brandy.”

The enemy captain had the tip of her already stained sword pressed to Lyra’s throat, mere moments from showering the blade in yet another fresh coat of disease filled pirate blood. She could still see the battle raging on behind the other woman, but it was a fight that her men had all but lost already. The Bloody Murder was on its last legs, and it was time to either abandon ship, or go down with the vessel as it went up in flames, and Captain Brandy knew which she would prefer. Like any respectable captain, she was more than willing to go down with her ship, and be proud in doing so. 

The enemy captain, however, didn’t seem keen on giving Brandy the honorable and just death that she so desired. She was pushing Lyra further and further, her back to the wall, completely cornered. In a move that could only serve to accentuate how malicious and uncaring she really was, the other woman was out to make Lyra’s death as pathetic and disgraceful as it could possibly be. But Lyra wasn’t about to let that happen without a fight, even if it was the last thing she ever did, which it would likely end up being. 

“Any last words, Captain?” The overwhelmingly strong woman held her blade steadily, the tip of her bloodsoaked sword not even so much as twitching as she slowly inched it towards Brandy’s trachea. “I’m not a totally unreasonable woman… there’s always the possibility of negotiating some sort of  **surrender** .”

Brandy scoffed, the battle was already lost to her, and there was little if anything for her to gain from surrendering now. Besides, her men were hopefully smart enough to know when to abandon their ship as well as their captain, they were likely already on their way out. The only thing Lyra could hope to gain at this point was time, sacrificing the last few moments before her death in an attempt to give them just enough time to escape, and that was all the honor that Brandy needed from her death. 

“You’ll find no such weakness in me, marauder.” Lyra didn’t even know the other woman’s name, and how could she, piracy wasn’t exactly a formal science, there was no moment to sit down for introductions when it came to looting and stealing. There were only rumors of notorious and evil pirates, passed along from their victims to the unsuspecting masses through word of mouth, and Lyra Brandy was the only famed lady captain who sailed these waters. If the woman in front of her was in fact an infamous pirate already, then her identity as a woman had been well hidden from those who spread the word of her tyranny, and If she wasn’t already known to the world, then this would be her grand debut. Captain Brandy’s head would be her trophy, her opening statement to the seas ahead, a warning for those foolish enough to cross her path.

She would be feared as the woman who sank the Bloody Murder, and killed its captain, Lyra Brandy. If there wasn’t already another famed lady captain, there soon would be. It was ironic actually, that the very thing which had been Lyra’s opening statement to the world, would turn out to be her downfall in the end. Lyra Brandy was known to the world as ‘Captain Castrator,’ she had gained her fame through swift action and cruelty, driving her blade into the precious jewels of her enemies, striking where they were weakest. But the enemy before her had no such weak spot, or if she did, it wasn’t so obvious to Brandy, because the woman pressing her oversized butcher’s knife to the captain’s throat hadn’t any jewels to castrate. 

Though even despite this, it had most certainly been a hard won battle for the other woman, no captain lived long who was foolish enough to rely on only one tactic when it came to battle. Lyra had a myriad of other tricks up her sleeve, but in the end they simply proved to be no match for the enemy captain’s brutish strength, clever maneuvering, and swift accuracy despite her size, and she most certainly had the advantage when it came to size. Lyra couldn’t tell until she had gotten this close, but whoever the other captain was, she wasn’t human, or at least not fully human, she was almost certainly a half-orc. Maybe that was why word of her being a woman never got out, her sheer strength and size made her an adversary as formidable as any man.

“Then I suppose I ought to go ahead and do anything I please with you, hmm?” Great, there it was, Lyra could have expected to hear a line like that much earlier when faced with any man, threats to both torture and rape her. She had hoped that in the face of a fellow lady captain, she would at least be shown respect enough to not be taunted with petty insults and hackneyed attempts at scaring her into submission through threats of molestation, but she supposed that she had set her hopes just a little bit too high. Of course the bar wasn’t set very high in the first place, and being who she was, hater of men and severer of genitals, Lyra Brandy would much rather be raped to death by even a burly half-orc woman than a gentler human man. Not that a fate such as that was something she would wish upon even her greatest of foes, which the other woman was turning out to be, even in death she had the decency to hope that this other woman would never have to face a fate so cruel.

“Spare me the triflings, orc. I could do without the timeworn threats of rape and bedside exploitation, there’s nothing that you can do now to scare me.” Peering through the open door out of her cabin, Lyra could no longer see her crew on the deck struggling against the enemy forces, either they had fled, or they had already been killed, and there was nothing more that their captain could hope to grant them by continuing to stall for time that would cause undue damage to the lady captain’s legacy and honor in the face of death. It was time for captain castrator’s story to come to an end, to close her book here and now while she was still ahead, to go out on one final note as triumphant and powerful as her opening act had been. Death was to be a more than welcomed release. “Do your worst.”

The two women locked eyes, the enemy captain’s sword still uncannily steady as she prepared to drive it into Lyra’s throat for one final time. A few moments of silence floated in the air as Brandy closed her eyes, ready to accept her death.

There was a lilt in Lyra’s voice as she felt the blade being pulled back, a small gasp escaping her lips in anticipation for the final blow, and then…

Nothing. 

Brandy opened her eyes, now hearing her enemy’s footsteps as she watched the half-orc woman slowly back out of the room, having the audacity to leave without even giving her prey the satisfaction of dying at the end of her sword. The other captain kept facing the human woman directly as she walked backwards, never once turning away and giving her a chance to strike back. 

Her blade didn’t so much as shake as she swung, knocking down a single lit lantern that illuminated the captain’s cabin, shattering onto the wooden floor. It was no honorable death, it was a final miserable disgrace to punctuate the end of Lyra’s life, burning in the fire of her own cabin as her beloved ship, the Bloody Murder, was reduced to cinders. She sat there in awe and silence as the door to her cabin swung shut, leaving her alone and frozen in place, soon to be reduced to ash as her greatest enemy just walked away. 

It was a pity really, the half-orc woman would have loved to watch Brandy whimper and squirm beneath her boot as she begged for mercy, pleaded for her life, did literally anything to help her sadistic pleasures along. But no, captain castrator was fierce and formidable to the very end, never once willing to bring the joy of watching the shame and humiliation spread across her victim’s face to the predator who so wished to watch the woman wallow in her disgrace. 

She wasn’t stupid, in the off chance of captain Brandy doing something so stupid as bursting through those burning doors, she wasn’t going to sheathe her sword. But she was satisfied enough to turn her back for now, she needed to get back to her own ship and tend to the wounds that Lyra had inflicted upon her, injuries that she had been trying very hard to hide from the human woman. 

She had brought magical potions along with her to heal her wounds, but within just a couple of cleverly placed sword swings, Brandy had succeeded in shattering the glass bottles that housed them, the girl was a lot wiser than she looked, and even the Handler had to admit that she looked positively stunning, especially while at the end of her blade. She’d be damned if she was about to kill a beauty of that caliber. 

**_Sshh!! Chhhkk!! Clang!!!_ **

There were rapidly approaching footsteps, and then the sound of clashing metal as their swords met once again. Brandy wasn’t just stupid enough to burst shoulder first through the inferno, but she was also brave enough and smart enough to wield the flames against her enemy, soaking her trusted blade into the burning oil and coating it in flames in the hopes of wielding it against the half-orc captain. 

Lyra Brandy no longer had anything left to lose, but she had the world to gain from taking her enemy down with her. Sure, the metal of her blade was bound to soon melt away in the flames that sheathed it, but this was going to be captain castrator’s final battle, and even if she couldn’t neuter her final opponent, she could catch her opponent off guard with a blindingly fast flurry of blows, hopefully in the end proving herself capable of removing the orc’s head instead. 

But the enemy captain was having none of it. Despite her brutish stature, her large size did nothing at all to hamper her speed, capable of responding with just as blinding swiftness and accuracy, stopping Lyra’s sword before it could get close enough to draw blood. The orcish captain was more than just glad that she had foresight to keep her blade drawn, she was over the moon at the chance to take the human woman down once again.

There were more flames than just those quickly creeping out of the captain’s cabin, the whole ship was going down, and as they exchanged blows once again, the two women were the only creature’s left on the deck of the rapidly deteriorating vessel that was once the Bloody Murder. 

The cannons of her own ship were pointed at them, ready to blow them to smithereens in an instant if even one of her underlings had the inkling to stab her in the back and let her sink along with the enemy ship. 

Lyra’s eyes darted all over the place, searching for the remnants of her crew. The ship was devoid of other life, the deck littered with the burning corpses of her dead mates, but there was still hope for them. Out of the corner of her eyes she was something that made her smile, the rowboats were gone, all of them, and in the distance she could see them, the four boats growing smaller as they made their escape. 

Their job was now done, and it was their captain’s duty to give them their best chances of escape, and the only way now to guarantee their safety was to take down the woman who was trying to kill them. 

Lyra could feel the skin of her hand beginning to burn as she gave, rolling under the orc woman’s sword as she lurched forward, no longer having the resistance pushing back against her blade. The human captain swung her sword around, bearing it down upon her now unbalanced opponent, only for it to be blocked by the orc woman’s sword as she leaned into her forward momentum, curling into a roll and bracing for Brandy’s attack, parrying the flaming blade with her own. 

The orc captain was now on one knee, pushing against her opponent’s attack as the human captain attacked from above, there was little to no strategic advantage to be gained from being low enough to look up at Brandy, and the human woman was aware that she now had the upper hand. 

A riposte. Brandy watched the enemy tilt to one side, rolling her shoulders and narrowly missing the flaming blade as it was sent slashing forward, being pushed off to the side, the orc’s blade thrusting directly forward.

Another narrow miss, the enemy captain had gotten her chance to drive the end of her crimson blade into the lady captain’s throat once already, if she wanted to do now, she should have taken that chance when she had it, but she didn’t. The tip of the blade was sent shooting past Lyra, the hot metal getting close enough to bathe her throat in burning heat, but never once grazing the human woman’s skin. 

**_WHAM._ **

In another surprise move, Lyra felt the air in her lungs quickly and violently leave her. The lunge was a feint, a fake out, the other woman wasn’t aiming for Brandy’s throat with her blade, she was aiming for it with her fist. 

Captain Brandy choked, coughing up a splatter of blood directly onto the other woman’s arm, her internal injuries already bad enough to cause oozing lacerations within her. But neither captain was going to let just a little bit of blood faze them, even if it wasn’t really as minimal as they would like to think. 

Neither woman knew what move to make next, the both of them needed to reevaluate tactics and regain their footing. Lyra was sent flying backwards, gasping for breath, leaving an opening perfect for allowing the orc captain to land a final blow. But the other captain put too much force into her blow, sending the other woman back a lot further than she had meant to, it would have been fine had she not still been on her knees, but she couldn’t reach captain Brandy from here on the floor, she needed a good few moments to rise to her feet once again, and by then the other woman was more than ready for her. 

Lyra Brandy gripped her blade with both hands, swinging her sword downwards at a diagonal. But her opponent wasn’t dumb enough to fall for an obvious feint like that. She could see the human trying to place herself into position to sweep the orc off of her feet as she rose, so instead of once again bringing her sword up to block the attack, she took the hit, putting her arm in the way and catching the blade mid swing. Lyra’s attack was a feint, and her opponent knew it was a feint, her blow wasn’t strong enough to cleave off the orc’s arm, it wasn’t designed to be.It cut deep, yes, and it burned, but it stopped before the bone, caught inside of the flesh of her arm. 

Brandy was swept off of her feet, quickly slammed onto her back as the orc woman pummelled her, grabbing her right arm and twisting her around, flinging her to the deck below. 

And just like that, Lyra once again felt the tip of the orc’s bloodied sword pressed to her throat, having lost this battle once and for all. The orc captain snarled angrily, pulling her sword back and sending it flying towards her enemy’s throat. 

And then she saw the human smile, happily to be gifted the death she deserved, once and for all. But in the face of what she saw in the woman’s smile as she gracefully accepted death, the Handler found herself driving her blade into the planks of the burning deck below, just barely missing the lady captain’s throat entirely. 

The lady captain opened her eyes, letting out a snarl, and then a gasp, and then a pained shriek as she felt the bones in one leg breaking beneath her enemy’s weight. She glared at the other woman, who never once lifted her foot off of the girl’s leg, even as she slammed her other foot down onto the human’s head, not relenting until Lyra was out cold. 

There was no time left to savor the sight of it, this ship had mere moments left before it burst into one final blossom of flame and glory, and the orc had only seconds to board her own ship before it turned tail, leaving its captain behind as it sailed away to save its own hide. 

She sheathed her own sword, as well as the human’s, turning away and beginning to head back to her ship, the Worst Nightmare, but not before she found herself doing something that even she couldn’t justify. She didn’t know why she was doing it, she had no words to describe it, but she found herself picking up the still corpse of Lyra Brandy and slinging it over her shoulder. 

She was beaten to shit, bleeding out, and dying, but she was still breathing. 

She grabbed onto the rigging off the side of her vessel, and climbed aboard the Worst Nightmare, not bothering to turn around and face the Bloody Murder as it finally burst into a violent explosion of ash, dust, and gunpowder. She didn’t want to look at the sight of her newest victory, the ship which she herself sought out to destroy, finally sinking into the depths below. 

All she wanted to look at was the look on Lyra Brandy’s face.

  
  
  


“What do we do with the prisoners, Sir?” 

_ Prisoners?  _ She snapped back to attention, staring up at her first mate. So they really had taken captives, good… “Stabilize them and toss them into the brig.”

“What if their wounds are too grievous?” The other woman looked down at her captain, offering to the large half-orc woman a pair of bottles, healing potions which she promptly snatched from her hands, pouring it down her throat and downing both drinks in an instant. 

“Then let them fester, do what you can and toss them in the brig as well, I don’t want you throwing a single one overboard just yet.” She gasped for breath, tossing the empty glass bottles to the side as she stared down at the unconscious human captain. “And get me another pair of healing potions…”

“What for, Sir?” The first mate was also staring at the motionless body of Lyra Brandy, admiring her from behind her captain.

“For her…” She smirked, licking her lips ever so slightly as she examined her prey. 

“What are you going to do with her, Sir?” The goblin woman had qualms with her commander’s plans, but she was in no place to openly argue with the orc. What the captain says, goes.

“I’m not quite sure yet-” She smiled eagerly, a devilish grin overtaking her as she had the most despicable of ideas. “But while you’re at it… would you be so kind as to start a fresh batch of Sinner’s Elixir?”

The first mate smiled mischievously, nodding her head in agreement, thoroughly liking wherever this was going. “Right away, Captain Handler… You can count on me~”

The Handler grinned, taking in the beauty of her freshest catch as her goblin associate walked away, heading into the brewery to get to work on the instrument of the human woman’s demise. 

She once again picked the human woman up, carrying her down into the lower decks to find a special cell just for her.

Lyra Brandy was now hers, and she was going to have a lot of fun disgracing and humiliating the once great lady captain. Rather, she was going to have a lot of fun watching the once great lady captain disgrace and humiliate herself for her Handler’s enjoyment.

Soon enough, the potions would do their worst. 

No one, not even the famous Lyra Brandy, is immune to the magical allure of the Sinner’s Elixir.


	2. Chapter 2

_ Doesn’t she look pretty just lying there? _

The half-orc captain couldn’t help but sit there and admire the unconscious captain Brandy. The human woman just looked so pretty lying there on the floor of her own personal cell, her arms and legs restrained via manacles as the other woman unlocked the door and stepped inside. 

The disheveled redhead was already devilishly alluring when she was being feisty, she couldn’t imagine what the human would like when she was helpless and vulnerable. Now  **that** was a woman that Captain Handler needed to see with her mouth hanging open in submission. 

Of course for now she was going to have to pry open Lyra’s mouth with her own hands, healing potions needed to be ingested, but where was the fun in just pouring the sparkling blue liquid down her gullet. 

Handler closed the cell door and uncorked the bottle, dipping two fingers into the healing potion and getting them soaked with the magical liquid. 

She knelt down over her captive and bound prey, eager to see the look on Lyra’s face as she woke up to find herself sucking on her captor’s fingers. 

But what a sight it was. The Handler pried the human’s lips open and shoved both of her fingers into the other woman’s mouth, watching the magic do its work for a few moments before the lady captain regained consciousness. 

Lyra’s horrified eyes went wide with shock and fear as she came to. The last thing she remembered was finding herself under the half-orc’s boot above the quickly sinking Bloody Murder. She expected it to be the last thing she ever saw before she went up in flames, but all of a sudden she was somewhere completely new and completely unfamiliar, and she wasn’t very happy about that. 

The Handler barely had time to smirk at the sight of her pathetic little captive before the lady captain bit her fingers as hard as she could manage. 

Lyra Brandy would seen find that that was her first mistake however, as all of a sudden she had those two fingers pressed down her throat as far as they could go, as the half-orc grabbed ahold of her by her mouth and brought her close, glaring her directly in the eyes until she unclenched her teeth. 

“Now I don’t want to have to tear your jaw from your head, my dear.” Handler reached her other hand behind the human woman’s head, curling her fingers into her hair, her other hand still pressed into the girl’s mouth. “But I will if I have to.”

“ _ Hhhhgmmpph!!! _ ” Lyra forced a muffled scream from her throat, choking and hacking on her own spit as the half-orc pulled her fingers from the girl’s throat, finding their way settling harmlessly back into her mouth, her other hand still curled into Brandy’s hair. 

Lyra couldn’t believe that this was happening to her, the Bloody Murder had gone up in flames, how could she have lived?

Of course the answer to that question was big, strong, menacing, and staring her directly in the eyes. 

“As you can see, Brandy, I have gone through the trouble of sparing your life, and that means you owe me a great debt for my mercy.”

A low growl could be heard coming from Brandy’s throat as she furled her eyebrows, glaring her tormentor directly in the eyes, quickly overcome with both disgust and anger. 

“Awww… Would you look at that?” The half-orc smiled eagerly, showing off her large tusks, making sure that the human knew how capable she was of ripping her apart and letting her slowly bleed out on the floor below. “Somebody already knows what that means~”

Lyra Brandy was many things, but she wasn’t an idiot. She knew  **exactly** what that meant.

“Welcome aboard the Worst Nightmare, darling. As your new captain, I expect you to treat me with the utmost respect and dignity.” Handler tightened her grip on the girl’s hair, watching her eyes go wide with fear. “And as your new  **Master** , I will be expecting complete cooperation and  **obedience** from you, is that understood?”

The Handler watched the human’s eyes turn cold as she slowly slipped her fingers out from the girl’s mouth, seeing just how badly the lady captain wanted to spit in her face. 

“You have a lot of nerve robbing me of my rightful death,  _ captain _ . You’ve had your fun, but I’m afraid I owe you nothing.”

The half-orc captain smiled patiently, looking over the girl as her new thrall got up on her knees, her hands and legs still restrained. “Now that’s not any way to treat your new master, is it  _ slave _ ?”

“Don’t you dare-”

“Unless you really want to find out why they call me  _ the Handler~ _ ” 

“The Handler.” Lyra snarled under her breath. “So  **you’re** Captain Handler?”

“So you have heard of me then?” 

“Of course I have. You’re a slaver.” Lyra’s heart was twisting in her chest. The seriousness of the situation setting in for her. “I will admit, when I heard of the famed slaver Captain Handler… I didn’t imagine you as a woman.” 

“I’m sure that you’ll soon discover a lot about me that you didn’t imagine, Captain.” The half-orc used her iron grip on Brandy’s delicious red head to assert herself, tilting her head backwards to make sure she was listening. “Now I can be gentle or I can be harsh, but let’s get one thing straight, I will be getting what I want.”

“I think we’ll just have to see about that, Captain Handler. Now speak your piece, what exactly is it that you want from me?”

“Like I said, I want you to be my slave.”

“No.” Brandy said it and she meant it, shooting the idea down on the spot, like firing a gun at point blank range.

But Handler already had Brandy in her grasp, much to her dismay. She was able to easily handle the human girl like her namesake implied, turning the human woman around and forcing her into the orc’s lap.

Brandy gasped, squealing in pain at even the slightest of movements. She wasn’t sure what had happened to her, but each and every limb betrayed her, succumbing to the agony as they nestled into the curves of the woman behind her. 

“See, that wasn’t too hard was it, Miss Brandy?” 

Brandy’s eyes rolled back into her skull, desperate to escape from the reality in front of them. A soft murmur escaped her throat, not one of pleasure, but of pain. Fierce terrible pain that she couldn’t hope to escape no matter how hard she tried. 

Captain Brandy wasn’t a weakling, she was no slave. Yet she shuddered under the weight of her captor’s shadow. 

“What in the hells have you done to my body?” It shouldn’t have much mattered to Lyra what had happened to her, she had given up on survival long ago. When her ship had been doomed to die, so had she, yet here she was. 

“You’re welcome to get up and make a fool of yourself if you’d like, really, I’d love to see it~” Handler taunted the poor girl. “But if you know what’s good for you, you’ll sit still and behave.”

_ My leg. _ Brandy stared at it, almost wrenching in disgust, she didn’t need a diagnosis to tell what was wrong with her. She had a great big boot shaped bruise on her naked leg, quickly turning black and blue, and she likely had one on the back of her head too. 

“We’ll sit here as long as you’d like and negotiate some agreement that works for us, and then once we’re done I can have your leg looked at.” The orc woman was brazenly confident in her ability to overpower the human girl, not so much as even viewing Brandy as a threat without her armaments. “Or if you’d rather get up and make a further mockery of yourself and your sunken honor, you can limp your way to the deck and go for a swim, up to you~”

“I think I’d rather take my chances with the sharks rather than swimming with you, if that’s alright. I had made my mind up on that before you dragged me off of my ship.” Lyra couldn’t get the image of the bloody murder bursting into flames out of her head, the image had been burned into her mind like the fire had burned its way through the skin of her arms. 

Brandy’s words were filled with a venom like no other, but the rest of her was filled with a sense of despair that she couldn’t hope to escape. The reality of having been bested by this creature came crashing in with her, what little fight was left was slowly being drained away. “I would like to die now.”

“What was that?”

“There’s no need to tiptoe or dance around it any longer.  _ Please- _ ” The word felt like acid on her tongue as she said it. “Please kill me.”

“Well, since you asked so nicely-” The handler taunted her, filling her with a bittersweet hope for just a moment before taking it back into her hands and grinding it to dust. “I won’t get in your way if you want to hobble your way back up the stairs and dive off the side of the deck, but I most certainly won’t assist you in carrying out your sickeningly unearned mercy~” 

“ **Unearned** ?” Lyra was offended by just the notion of it. “Nothing about my death will be  **unearned** , I assure you.”

“And how exactly do you figure that, my dear?”

“I have served my time on the high seas, and I was more than ready to deliver myself to a captain’s death, even you should understand that, Handler… you are a captain yourself, are you not?”

The orc captain sighed, and with that painful sigh, Brandy felt a cruel grasp tighten around her unkempt head of hair, feeling the handler’s breath on her skin as she spoke into her ear. 

“While once upon a time you may indeed have deserved a captain’s death, I’m afraid things have changed, don’t you think?”

_ No, please-  _ Brandy couldn’t stand to hear it. 

“You were once a captain, I will give you that. But here you are little more than my prisoner.”

Brandy choked, the indignation welling up inside of her burning her to a crisp, ready to be stepped on and smashed to pieces. 

But the fact that the human woman couldn’t seem to form a rebuke told her captor everything she needed to know, that she knew what the half-orc was saying was right. 

“The reddish tint in your skin tells me that you are what I fear you are, aren’t you?” The anguish in her voice as she acknowledged the single cruel fact hanging over her was enough to crush the poor girl’s soul on its own. “I’ve met orcs, but I’ve never seen one of your kind up close.”

“How lucky you must be in your ignorance, many would dream of that you know?” The handler grinned, not allowing her prisoner an inch to move without ripping out her own hair. “Not many can say that they’ve never found themselves in the cruel grasp of a hobgoblin before, now can they?”

Half-orc. Half-hobgoblin. The handler was every creature’s worst nightmare. A cruel vision of what their future was bound to become. The fate of any race trying to survive in this world demanded a willingness to cooperate with them, the hobgoblins. 

_ The Najistairean’s.  _

It made Brandy sick to her stomach just looking at her, a clear indication of that single morbid fact, if your race is to survive, then there’s no choice but to live on as a part of them. Cross-breeding for hybrid children may have once been taboo, but in this world, it was the only way for a species to survive. 

“Is there something you’re waiting for, my dear?” The fact that the hybrid’s voice wasn’t cruel or demanding made it cut even deeper than it otherwise would, and Lyra couldn’t stand it. 

“What was that?”

“Didn’t you insist you were going to be on your way?” The handler continued. “The door’s unlocked, if you ask nicely, I’ll even hold it open for you~”

“I may be bound, but I don’t find the need to ask for your help. I can take care of it myself.”

_ If you won’t kill me, then I’ll do it myself. _

“If you insist, then by all means-” The orc woman let go of her grasp on the human woman’s hair. “To your left will be the stairs, it’s the quickest way to the depths, assuming you’d like to go out by sharkbite, that is~”

Brandy scoffed, more than a little bit surprised that the slaver captain would just let such a prized catch go like she was nothing. “That’s it then? You’re not going to stop me?”

“No, of course not, I really have no need for you like you are. You’re wanted dead  **or** alive, I can just fish your body back up once it’s over.” The orc woman shifted her weight beneath her captive, watching Brandy wince in her lap. “It’s a shame that you won’t choose to stay with me, but I’m sure I’ll find a worthy alternative amongst your crewmates.”

“My crewmates?” Lyra’s heart literally stopped in her chest. She clung to her conviction, though weak, as she spoke, trying not to show any more weakness than she already had. 

“Oh, of course. If you take a right, you can see them before you go~”

“You’re lying-”

“I’m not… Why would I lie to you about that?”

“Then prove it.” There was just a little bit of a crack in her voice, the slightest sign that her strength was wavering. “Show them to me.”

“And here I thought you were set in your fate-”

“Show them to me, Handler.” She tried to mask over the faintness in her voice with a snarl, but really all it served to do was show her captor a deeper, darker insecurity of hers. Fear. 

“Please…” Her voice betrayed her, courage wavering in the face of it all. 

“On your feet then.” The captain slid the girl out of her lap and back onto the floor beside her, rising to her feet. 

From down here there was no mistake who the stronger beast was, and even the kindness of watching the slaver open the jail door for her made Brandy out to feel weak and powerless, like a husk of her former self, one who didn’t used to need help opening doors for herself. 

“Come on, then. I don’t have all day, Brandy. I would like to find myself a proper slave before sundown.” 


	3. Chapter 3

On aching feet and broken legs, Lyra hobbled forward. The poor human woman couldn’t help but acquaint herself with the filthy wooden floor of the ship, her hubris tripping her as she desperately followed behind her captor. 

“Come on now, we’re on the clock, Captain.” Lyra’s battered eyes shuddered at the sight of the burly set of fingers reaching down from above, yanking as gently as they could as they rushed the human woman back up onto her knees. “It would be quicker to drag you there.” 

Lyra snapped at her with her most able weapons, teeth, grazing the skin of the other woman’s arm as she threatened to bite chunks out of her off colored skin. “I’d rather hobble my way overboard than let myself be handled like that for even a second.” 

“And you’ll be doing that too.” The handler smiled, ridiculing the other woman with the smug grin she loved to give. “Very well, you can hobble there on your own if you insist.” 

There was a loud thud as she was dropped back onto the floor, the boards beneath her creaking beneath her weight.

Lyra had meant to call the orc woman’s bluff, but horrifyingly, she seemed to be completely serious about holding her crewmate’s hostage. She walked with resolve, the wooden planks beneath her boots bending and creaking under her weight. 

This would have been hard enough with her ankles bound together, but her wrists were bound behind her back as well, making this endeavor even more of a fruitless attempt to save face. There was no saving face, not in front of hobgoblins. 

As a lucky survivor of a cruel world, Lyra Brandy was intimately familiar with the sight and sounds- not to mention the smells- of sailing on open water, but the floorboards of the brig were riddled with filth. Rats from at least two distinct nests scurried their way across the hall, and Brandy’s red hair was wet with a mixture of unidentifiable liquids that pooled on the ground she had repeatedly collapsed onto. 

“This is the one.” Captain Handler stopped a brief ways down the hall, waiting for the prisoner to catch up with her. What infuriated Lyra the most was just how short the walk really was. She should have had no trouble getting from her cell to the one just three doors down, but the swaying of the sails in the wind tipping the ship back and forth while Brandy focused herself towards balancing on broken legs did nothing to help her quickly developing seasickness, especially in response to the pounding pain in her head. “Mind the blood and corpses, we haven’t had the chance to take inventory and dispose of the dead stragglers just yet.”

The fiery ball of thunder burned in Brandy’s throat. Those were  _ her men _ she was talking about, they shouldn’t be allowed to collect in the corner of some enemy brig as  _ corpses _ . But Brandy’s vision blurred, the impact of her head hitting the floor dizzying the energy out of her concussed brain. 

With a little bit of finesse and a lot of brute force, Brandy got back onto her feet, still bound together with chains, and still broken, limping her way to the cell that currently served as her crew’s memorial. 

“If you think you might get sick, feel free to step out.” The handler taunted her, grinning smugly at the concussed little fiend struggling to even take two steps before tumbling over. “If I was a betting woman, I’d say about two thirds are still alive, but only if they get the medical care they need to stay that way.”

The handler stepped towards Brandy, freely and without a single ounce of effort, gesturing towards both cages, currently chock full of unconscious humans. But not just any humans- women. 

She wasn’t lying after all. Lyra’s crewmates were alive, right here beneath the deck of the Handler’s ship, locked up in cages- at her mercy. 

“We’re looking at about half of those survivors dying by the end of the moon, that is.” 

“And you won’t waste precious resources on keeping them alive.” Her fingers tingled with hatred, curling into fists at the sight of the atrocities being committed upon the women- her women. Those were her sisters bleeding out, and she should be right there bleeding with them, arm in arm, but instead she was shackled and alone, bound to the mercy of the woman who’d dragged her and her crewmates into this hell. 

“Not unless we get some sort of offer for them, no.” Just a single touch to Brandy’s shoulder was enough to knock her over, and she would have landed face first into a still growing pool of blood on the planks beneath her feet if Handler’s grip didn’t tighten itself onto her shoulder, holding her upright. “They’d have to survive til auction to even get a chance of being bidded on, and I’m not expecting buyers til we get back ashore.” 

Brandy spat in her own mouth, her bare foot scraping on the filthy floorboards beneath her, splashing in the puddle of viscera below as she pulled herself from the other woman’s hand, keeping her feet firmly planted. “And how long until we make shore?”

“ **We** will be making shore any time from one to two tendays from now, that’s three weeks just in case you don’t understand imperial time.” 

“I’m more than familiar with imperial measurements, fiend. Thank you.” She grinded her teeth together, focusing on the pain of the splinters throbbing in her feet to distract from her anger.

“Well there you have it.” The handler cackled, slugging Brandy on the shoulder, which just sent her tumbling ass first into the pool at her feet. “Feel free to join them, if you’d like.”

“Join them?” She scoffed, glaring up at the other woman from the floor below, now equal in elevation to her unconscious, dying soldiers. “Join them where, Handler?” 

“On the sale floor, of course.” Impatient with the human woman, the hybrid stepped up to her, blood splashing as her boot landed in the puddle, spraying Brandy’s calloused bare skin as she was doused. “Don’t say I’ve disrespected your status, Captain. None of your crewmates will enjoy the privilege of letting themselves get ripped to pieces and taken into the belly of nautical horrors. You can dive overboard if you’d like, but these girlies are getting sold as slaves, of course.” 

She pounded her fist on the metal bars of one of the cages, yet none of her captives came to, despite her monstrous strength. “I’d prefer you become  **my** slave, but if you’d instead like to join them in falling for the highest bidder, I won’t stop you. But one of you girls is about to be mine, whether you like it or not-” 

“And what would that do for me that I couldn’t get by getting hacked to bits by sharks, Handler?” She struggled, the burning skin of Brandy’s forearms lit ablaze in the bloody mess the fumbled around in. “What would  **I** get from becoming a slave?”

“Not much… but I’m not sure that’s the right way of going about it.” The handler gazed longingly into one of the cells, fingers curled around the bars, about ready to pry it open and ravish the group there on the spot. “You might not have anything to gain from serving me… but they would.”

“And what would they get for choosing to be your slave?” 

“Well that’s the thing, it wouldn’t be their choice… it’d be yours.” 

She clenched her teeth together, hanging onto what little hope she had left hidden away inside of her. “Pardon?” 

“You can choose to take the easy way out, overboard, and they’d all end up dead or sold to the highest bidder- if they were lucky enough to survive the trip…  **Or** -” The handler leaned against the bars, her sharp smile gnawing at Brandy’s heart. “You can save them.” 

“Save them?” She pulled on the chains, the metal shackles keeping her as helpless as a husk. “How would you expect me to save them?” 

“By serving me as my slave, Captain.” The handler casually pulled the small bottle of healing potion from her jacket pocket, swishing it around in front of her face, ready to chug it. “You may not have the power to save them, but I do.” 

“So that’s what this is about.” Brandy’s wet hair weighed her head down, her eyes heavy as she stared off at her mutilated comrades. “Extortion.”

“This isn’t extortion, Brandy.” The half-orc woman popped the lid of the bottle open, watching it thud onto the floorboards below. “This is mercy.” 

“No.” Brandy absolutely refused. “Hobgoblins don’t know the meaning of the word mercy.”

“And leave it to a human to try and have the final word on how other species should live.” She loomed over the girl, thumb on Brandy’s forehead as she ran her fingers through the woman’s wet red head of hair, cracking her head backwards just slightly. 

The muscles on the handler’s arm glistened, even as the torch light reflected from the bloody pools below. Brandy should fight back, she  **wanted** to fight back, but somehow she just couldn’t. 

“If you want to see mercy, then here.” The half-orc hybrid curled her strong fingers around the bottle, putting it up to Brandy’s lips for her to drink from. “Since you’re having such trouble dragging yourself along, the first drink’s free.” 

Brandy shut her lips as tight as she could, staring at the almost glowing yellow liquid. “And the second drink?” 

“I’m afraid if you want one of those, you’ll have to lick it from my tusks.” She cocked the girl’s head even further backwards, ready to pour it down her throat by force. “Or from my lips~”

“I don’t need your mercy, Handler.” Brandy ignored her advances, studying headstrong and focused on the task at hand, saving her crew. 

“No… but they do.” The half-orc, being in use of both hands, nodded towards the literal piles of dying humans. “And this is your chance to help them.”

“To save them.” Brandy swallowed nervously, her eyes staring straight up at the other woman, challengingly steady even as she struggled with double vision. “What do I need to do to save them?” 

“We’ll get to that, but first thing’s first-” She pressed the bottle of healing potion to the human captain’s lower lip. “Drink up.” 

Brandy didn’t really have a choice but to drink, as soon as her lips were open, even just slightly, the handler poured a mouthful of liquid straight into her throat, choking her on the sickeningly sweet drink. It was more than she could handle, a mouthful for an orc was a lot bigger than a human mouthful, by quite a lot. But she choked it down, swallowing every last drop that made it into her mouth. 

“Stumble upstairs to my quarters if you’d like to speak, or find your way overboard if you’d rather off yourself.” The handler stood up straight, taking the very valuable bottle of half full healing elixir at shattering it on the floor at her feet. “But do feel free to lap that up first, if you wish.”

The half-orc paid little more attention to the women currently held trapped in cages as she walked away, but the human woman at her feet certainly paid close attention to her, wallowing in the helplessness of the situation, her voice showing just a bit of weakness as she pleaded.

“Wait-” 

She stared down at the pool of what was once potion fading away at her knees, what was there mixing in with the bloody puddles around her, washing away any thought of licking the liquid up. 

“Take me to your cabin.” She stared up at the other woman as the handler refused to turn back towards her. Demands weren’t going to be getting her very far. Not at all. “Please.” 

“If you don’t want to get smacked or violated on the way there, then quit yapping and trying to keep up.” The handler snapped her fingers, motioning for Brandy to follow behind her, as if she was a dog to be lead. “The boys and girls upstairs won’t be happy to see you, be warned.”

Brandy took one last cursory glance over the prisoners before struggling to her feet, unable to take another moment of watching their suffering. 

Splintered feet and broken bones stumbled forward slowly, desperate to be on the heel of the other woman, for the convenience of not being touched or raped by the captain’s subordinates while in her presence. 

“I would prefer it if you’d keep your subordinates off of me,  **Captain** .” 

“Miserie.” The stairs creaked under the handler’s weight as she stepped onto the wooden planks, heading back upstairs. 

“Misery?” Brandy blinked in confusion, struggling to keep up with her even as she slowly ascended the steps, one foot at a time. 

“Not  _ Misery,  _ **_Miserie._ ** ” The half-orc sighed, waiting for the human at the top of the steps. “You never asked for my name.”

“Your name?” 

“Miserie.” She didn’t waste a moment, striding towards her quarters with her long legs as soon as Brandy had caught up, leaving her in the dust immediately. “Captain Miserie.”

Everyone. Absolutely everyone had their eyes on Brandy as she came into view, staring at the beaten and broken enemy captain as she followed along behind their own captain like an obedient little dog, hot on the tail of her handler.

_ The Handler.  _

They cackled, giggling at her as she passed. But the important part was that she wasn’t being touched, not that she wasn’t being laughed at. They weren’t all hobgoblins either, but even the ones who were didn’t dare lay a finger on the woman, not while in the captain’s company. That was the power a superior fighter held over their subordinates. 

A power which Brandy still held over hers, the power to protect them from themselves and from each other. If nothing else, she could do her best to protect those she cared about. 

“In.” The door into her quarter’s creaked loudly as she opened it, gesturing for Brandy to head inside, to turn her back on the powerful orc woman and go in first. 

She rolled her eyes back into her tongue, biting her tongue, and in a moment of just slight vulnerability, stumbling inside ahead of the other woman, leaving her back turned to attack from behind. 

The captain smirked, tapping her on the ass just slightly, helping her forward to her chagrin. The crew still had their eyes glued to the scene, everyone saw that and they both knew it. 

“Knock if you need anything.” The half-orc shouted to the rest of her crew, grinning at them one last time before heading inside after her captive. 

**Slam.** The door shut tight behind her, and the last sound audible to the crew was their captain locking herself inside of her quarters along with the prisoner, with one final-

**Click.**

  
  
  


“I’m glad to see walking’s gotten so much easier for you in such a short time.”

“A single swig from a single potion is not going to fix a broken leg, Captain.”

“A fair assessment, but still-” The half-orc chuckled lightly as she hung up her coat. “I’m sure it wouldn’t hurt to get those shackles off of you.”

“If you think that’s the wise decision, then by my guest. I can’t promise not to rip that foul-mouthed voicebox of yours straight from your throat however.”

“I’m sure I’ll manage.” Brandy stiffened up as soon as she felt the Handler’s hands on hers, slowly unlocking the cuffs shackling her hands behind her back. “I handled you beautifully back on the bloody murder, and I’ll handle you beautifully here.” 

Brandy winced, twitching angrily at the feeling of fingers tracing over her burned forearms. “You should have killed me when you had that chance.” 

“Go on, keep insisting that. I know you’ll be able to convince me eventually.” Handler waved the heavy metal shackles in front of Brandy’s face, holding in one hand what it would take the human two to handle properly, dropping it onto the floor with a loud clang. “But let’s get one thing straight, I am the stronger fighter here, and any attempt to claim my life will cost the lives of those crewmates of yours in the brig, or worse.” 

“Worse?” She didn’t so much as flinch as the heavy shackles slammed onto the floorboards, mere inches from her exposed toes. “They’re already set to be sold off as slaves, how could death be any worse than that?”

“We’ll get to that. But first-” Brandy glared at the single key that the orc was now taunting her with, twisting it in front of her eyes. “For the feet shackles. I refuse to lower myself to that level.” 

Brandy took a deep breath in, cupped her hands together like a bowl so that her captor could drop the key into her palms, and then breathed out. 

The handler didn’t wait a moment for her, sitting down on the other side of her rather large desk, waiting for the other girl to join her. “Now take a seat.”

“Get to the point, please.” Brandy, still on aching feet, made her way to the desk and pulled out a seat. She, like the handler, didn’t waste a moment, and went about unlocking her manacles right away. 

“Now, let’s negotiate your terms of surrender, shall we?” The captain turned, rolling up a scroll on the table between them and putting it away. “I can save your crewmates, your sisters- but only if you listen well and do as I say.”

“I’m listening…” She sat across from the other woman, ears ringing as she heard out her captor’s demands, knowing very well what they were going to be.

“It’s simple. I have something you want, and you have something I want.”

“And that would be what, exactly?”

“You want medical care, food, water, and safety for your crew.” The orc and hobgoblin hybrid smiled slyly, looking the other woman up and down. “And I want you.” 

“You want me.” Brandy shuffled in her seat, fidgeting uncomfortably. She knew exactly what this was, watching her crew be held at ransom in exchange for morbid sexual favors. “And what about me do you want?” 

“I want it all.” The handler wasn’t playing around, she knew what she wanted, and she knew how to go about getting. “Everything.”

“All of me. You want all of me?” Brandy scoffed, one of the few defense mechanisms she still had while her body was recovering. “You want all of me- Lady Captain Lyra Brandy, Killer of men, lady of pain. The Castrator. You want all of that?”

“I do.” 

“Why?” 

“I don’t know.” There was a brief pause, awkwardly silent as the handler just smiled at her, admiring her from concussed head to broken toe. “If I’m being honest with myself, I have no idea. I just know that I want it.” 

“You want… me.” 

“As my slave.” The handler placed both elbows on the table, resting her chin on her hands. “Become my slave, my property, and I will save your crew… don’t, and let them all die.” 

Lyra couldn’t help but choke up at the thought, being someone’s  **thing** , rather than herself. She lived a life of piracy, a struggle for survival, she was familiar with the idea. 

But even more terrible a thought to her, right here and now, was being the reason that her sisters in arms, her companions, were to be slaughtered and thrown overboard, starved and diseased, if she didn’t cave into the captain’s demands. 

“So, Captain Brandy, what’s it going to be?”


	4. Chapter 4

“Drink.” 

Captain Miserie clacked a small shot glass down onto the mat atop her desk, filling it near to the brim, but careful not to spill even just a drop of the murking green solution onto the table with her strong steady hands. 

“You want me to drink that?” Brandy just stared at it, not nervously but skeptically, she knew better than to just drink any strange brew set down on the table in front of her- yet here and now she felt powerless to reject it. “I know a poison when I see it, Handler.”

The half-orc simply corked the cap back onto the glass bottle without even pouring herself a glass. She had an entire canteen in her overcoat to sip from, and she chugged that thing like it was air right in front of the human woman’s face. “Then you’ll know that it’s not poison then.” 

“That’s my point-” Brandy just stared at it, diligently. The handler wouldn’t just poison her, not after confessing that she wanted to keep the lady captain, but Brandy couldn’t figure out exactly what the solution actually  **was** . “If it’s not poison… what is it?”

“Like I said, drink it.” She sat up, intently watching the other woman’s face for her reaction as she spoke. “If you’re going to be my slave- that is your first order.” 

Brandy could hear her own voice in her throat, beginning to protest as she swallowed her own spit, garbled through her own head. She could tell out of the corner of her sharp vigilant eyes that the other woman sharing this space with her was loving that disgusted look on her face. 

The ornate shot glass splitting the distance on the table between them was sized perfectly- for an orc. 

Brandy’s hands had never shook raising a glass. Neither victorious toasts nor remorseful last drinks could break her spirit, surely it must have been the pain of burned fingertips against the cold ornation, but it didn’t look that way-

And it didn’t feel that way either.  _ No.  _

There was no time to argue, seconds ticked away like grains of sand in an hourglass- this hourglass without a bottom to collect a mountain of sand to flip back over and watch go the other way.  _ No-  _ This hourglass flipped once and never again, letting the time slip and plummet into the depths of the sea below, gone once it was gone, forever. 

The concoction-  _ the  _ **_sludge_ ** _ \-  _ inside was dark. Murky. Green. No poison would so stupidly telegraph how bad of an idea putting that liquid down your throat would be, this brew was downright nauseating just to look at- and there was so much of it to be had in a glass for which a human woman’s fingers reduced to dainty childlike feelers, stomach and liver unequipped to filter such sick.

And yet every few moments slight shakes of said hand brought bubbles to the surface, bloody. Angry. Red. The bubbles pop with a glisten, a shining of lamplight against the viscous reflective surface radiating an intense lustful crimson, alluring for a moment before diving back into that deep swamp of mossy viridian. 

It swirled, mixing at Brandy’s design, and it was just so much worse. No red should so easily overtake green like that, not in any mix imaginable. The violent popping tones wrought to the surface like blood to the surface of the sea- except this murky bile of an ocean should not, could not, be seen through- yet it went about doing so anyways. 

It smelled like… oh, what was that- Sweat? Booze induced bile? Flowers decorating a grave? The blood of an enemy? The musk of a bedmate’s body hair?

Breath. It smelled like bad breath. 

Brandy breathed out a million times, never once breathing in, one sharp intake bringing that olfactory rot inside of her, nose stinging with atrocity- bad memory after bad memory.

“Brandy.” The handler spoke, her voice… soft. Not annoyed, patient- it mattered little to her if this took all night or all year. It was hard for Brandy to listen to, because she knew she couldn’t do it otherwise, the fact that it  **wasn’t** out of pity stung her ears. No longer the enemy captain, but the only captain, she gently repeated herself, selflessly leaving out any condescension or harshness… not demanding- commanding. “Drink.”

**Clack** . The empty glass landed face down where it once came.

Brandy knocked her head back, feeling the slime crawl its way across her tongue and down her throat, rushing inside of her like yet another nightmare. 

Her eyes wet themselves, adamantly watering, not crying. It was every bit as awful as it looked and smelled, but different in every conceivable way as she was expecting. 

Brandy’s tongue blistered and bled with disgust at the gut-wrenching, stomach-churning, vomit-inducing  **_sweetness_ ** . No scurvy wary seafarer would dare place inside of them such a foul sugary taste, a sensation so vile it could only serve to screen some toxin that she knew very well just wasn’t there. 

What was there was not the bitter sting of baneful poison but the venomous aftertaste of sour reminiscent of actually getting the citrus necessary to stave off gut rot and sailor’s sickness, sliding down her body like a slug- slow and agonizing. 

Her burned hand reflexively curled into a fist, not to strike her enemy or even to strike herself, but pressed desperate to her lips as she gagged.

“Keep that down, Brandy.” Burly fingers from across the table flipped the shot glass upright, threatening to refill it. “You don’t want to have to drink your own spew, do you?”

She shook her head.

“Spit that out and I’m afraid it’s either that or another glass, and you don’t want another, do you?”

She shook her head.

“Are you sure?”

She… paused and thought about it, unsure  **why** it was she was even considering another knowing how badly the first was going down but ultimately-

She nodded. 

The handler nodded back, appreciatively, holding the second bottle of healing solution in front of her prisoner’s face. “Would you like a chaser?”

She nodded, very sure of herself this time. 

What little droplets that remained in the glass mixed with the sparkling healing solution as she poured it, tasting heavenly against Brandy’s tongue in comparison as she emptied it out, finally getting her first decent drink of the restorative elixir since she’d woken up- having slurped what little she had gotten earlier from fingers or an equally filth covered floor. 

“I see you haven’t quite made up that mind of yours, lady captain~” Brandy watched as the orcish woman retrieved her blade, sliding her cutlass into the sheath at her hip. “But if you can’t find the words to decide, I will let your actions speak for you.”

“My actions?”

“You’ll see in a moment… follow me, Captain Brandy.”

With another click, the locked door to the captain’s quarters opened. Captain Handler stepped into the doorway, and with another click, cocked her trusted flintlock and fired.

The loud pulse of the bullet leaving the barrel was cut through by the ringing of a large bell in the crow’s nest, struck by the captain’s shot- wrangling the attention of her entire crew.

“Quartermaster!! We’ve caught a new one-” She snapped her fingers, not for a moment looking back to the deck above her own cabin to see the crew's third in command as she summoned him. “Ready the mast for Captain Lyra Brandy~

There was applause and cheer all around her, but for Lyra Brandy, this was anything but a time to celebrate.

She stood up, stubbornly unable to back away from the door, but no more able to step towards it. “The mast-”

“The walk of shame.” Captain Miserie turned towards her, a proud smile painted onto her face. “Or the plank- your choice.”

“So that’s what you meant.” Her resolve swelled, strengthening her towards pushing her way to the door. “Letting my actions speak for me.”

“You know what’s about to happen, Brandy.”

“And it’s been a long time coming.”

Brandy pushed past the other woman, eyes fixed on the mast as she selflessly stepped towards it, met with the ire of a hundred men all around- glaring right at her,  _ The Castrator _ .

“Back to the mast,  _ Captain _ .” One such man, the quartermaster, thumped his fist against the sturdy wooden cylinder, staring her down with his single beading eye. 

Brandy groaned, but complied, refusing to acknowledge the sheer terror building up within her as she turned her back to the cyclops, her still broken ankle cracking beneath her weight as she limped, pressing her vested shoulders against the wooden post behind her.

“I’m glad to see that walking’s gotten easier for you, makes this easier on us.” The handler stepped towards her, steady hands beginning to gently unbutton and remove the human’s vest, careful not to ruin or destroy it. But the moment her hands laid siege upon the woman’s undershirt, Brandy caught her wrist in her tracks and halted her. 

“I can strip myself, Captain. But thank you for-”

Brandy’s ire laden attempts at reason were shattered the instant Miserie forced her hand out of her grasp and wrapped it around the girl’s throat, forcefully slamming her back against the mast in her first act of intimidation.

“Would you like to run that by me again, Captain?” She squeezed, ringing that hidden terror from Brandy’s lips as she slid her back up the splintery mast behind her, raising her feet off the ground in a show of sheer strength, listening to the desperation of a girl facing her own fear for the first time. “The briny depths are all that awaits fallen captains, the walk of shame is for slaves- careful what your actions say about you, Brandy.” 

Fiendishly strong fingers clasped around her throat like a shackle, she gave, a bit of her oh so present fear escaping its cage and clawing its way to her face, plastering it over with terrified emotion as she nervously and agreeably nodded. “Yes, Captain…”

“Arms beside yourself.” 

Thud. She dropped the woman onto her shattered heels, watching her wince with pain but refuse to fold at the impact, hammering her own hands into her hips and standing at attention. 

She was anything but happy about it, complying. Standing at attention as her captain examined her made Brandy look like a proper galley girl again. “Yes, Captain.” 

She gripped Brandy by the lapelles and tore her undershirt open, ripping a gash down the front of her top, and in just a few moments she was stripped of everything but her burly chest binder, cold sea air sharp against her naked vulva. 

“What’s this?” She gripped the leather chestpiece between her fingers. She had hardly expected her undershirt to be the final layer, but a brassiere would have been a much prettier sight to behold than whatever it was that Brandy was wearing instead of one. 

She broke open the snaps and peeled the piece from the girl’s skin, and out bounced Brandy’s bosom, freed from the leather binder keeping them tucked away from sight. 

There was a certain sense of flustered shame that could be glimpsed from Brandy’s face, like no one was meant to find out that the famous lady captain binded her chest to make herself smaller. 

But all eyes were staring her right in the chest now. 

“How modest of you~” 

Except those eyes. 

“Look at me, Brandy.”

Her terrified eyes fluttered upwards, gazing into those of her captain as they gazed straight back at her, never once breaking contact to peer downwards. 

“Maybe my prize has a little bit more treasure to her than I thought, it matters little either way.”

Handler, though certainly satisfied to see that Brandy’s breasts were a deal rounder and more plump than she had first thought, was still focused on  **her** .

“Hands above your head.” 

“Yes, Captain…” Taking the backfoot with her captor, she let herself be cornered into the mast, her hands pressed together above her head as the quartermaster tied Brandy’s wrists together, wrapping the rope around the post and securing her to the mast behind her.

“You all know the rules!!” The ship’s captain called out to them. “I want her alive, in one piece, and without child-”

She wasn’t sure exactly why, but hearing Captain Handler say that last part comforted her. Nothing imaginable could be much worse to the lady captain than finding herself knocked up with the child of her rapist. 

“I will  **personally** chop the cock off of any who dares get our guest of honor pregnant on the eve of her arrival-” There was a collective of disappointed groans among the crowd around them as the half-hobgoblin conqueror turned face to stare at Brandy again. “Is that alright with you, Castrator?”

“Yes, Captain.” Brandy clasped her eyes shut and hung her head. It didn’t matter much to the handler what her crewmates thought of her decision, and they thought extremely little of it, but her new trophy certainly appreciated it. Even though the famous captain castrator would love nothing more than to neuter any man who dared slipped his penis within her body, she was more than a little bit willing to defer to the enemy captain’s authority and protection in this matter. “Thank you…”

Her words wounded her- saying  _ thank you _ . Just about everyone on the deck booed her for that, but the captain and her close confidant were an exception. 

“Gag her.”

Rope trapped tight against her teeth, wrapped and tied around her head, silencing her worried flinching head as she bit down on the rope, hellishly rough against the inside of her mouth. 

Lyra Brandy, for all of her strength, confidence, and prowess- was a woman- and that made her something more than her own legacy in the eyes of her assailants, her captors, her rapists and abusers. 

She  **shouldn’t** have been thankful for any of this, but in the menace of potentially having to bring some sickened bastard child to term, she was thankful to have the captain’s protection. 

“While you’re on the mast, you’re fair game.”

**_Slam._ ** Brandy’s eyes widened as she watched the handler pull her cutlass from her hip, raise it above her human captive’s head, and spear the blade into the mast between her arms, the sharp pointed up and pressed against the ropes that bound her wrists together and secured her to the mast.

“Answer me with your actions, Brandy. If you want out of this… of being my slave, cut and run.” She smiled, staring intently into her terrified eyes. “You can do this, captain… you don’t have to, but I know you can… and I had better not find you running amok and causing havoc on my ship, you hear?”

Bindings pressed against the sharp of her opponent’s blade, her lifeline, safety net, and escape route- Brandy nodded. 

The handler smiled, giving her a nod in return. “Have at her.”

She swiveled in place, coattails whipping behind her as she turned her back to Brandy, slowly making her way back to her personal cabin, and Brandy was a little bit sorry to see her go- if only for her protection. 

Before she was even gone, the handler’s quartermaster stood between Brandy and the door, staring her down as her terrified eyes glanced back up. 

“Don’t give me that look, human.” He scoffed, fingers curled into a fist, approaching Brandy’s head-

**Thud.** The cyclops quartermaster smirked, doing nothing more than flicking the prisoner directly in the eye, watching her pinch it closed. 

“You heard what she said- if I were you, I’d do my damned best to keep that gag on.”

Her teeth clenched down, gripping into the rope in a desperate selfish attempt to keep it in place. 

“The captain may be dieting, but the boys are hungry…” He once again thudded his fist into the wood of the mast, watching the human captive for the first time- give and flinch. “Hurt a single one of our men, and no castration’s gonna scare me away from tossing you overboard myself.” 

Her glance drifted downwards from the cyclops and his single glaring eyeball, landing on his waist- filling her with a sense of smug satisfaction knowing that she had saved herself from being raped by a number of these men by castrating them personally.

But it did very little to make her feel any more secure in the face of what was to come, as she stared nervously up at the window to the captain’s cabin, just barely able to see inside.

“Ahem.” The moment he had stepped away, her eyes glowered downwards to another voice, as a small goblin woman stood before her. “May I have this dance~”

_ Here we go then…  _ She struggled to even swallow with the rope in her mouth.  _ Do your worst, Handler.  _

  
  


The captain just settled in at her desk, alone in her cabin once more, the sight of her prey strapped to the mast staring her in the face through the window before her. 

“Calm down, Hjalla…” She sighed, taking a deep breath in- and then out, sprawling an empty canvas onto the desk in front of her. “She’s going to be just fine…”

She stared through the window, watching her first mate pass up a chance at raping her trophy in favor of a simple swift kick to the cunt, earning a growl from the captain as the goblin woman stepped towards the cabin and opened the door. 

“How was that, Captain?” The first mate smiled proudly at her, a ring of keys in hand. “Shall I lock you in?” 

“If it’s all the same to you, Zuum. Yes-” She growled angrily at the smaller woman, knowing very well that she wouldn’t be able to stop herself from stepping in to protect Brandy if someone wasn’t there to stop her. “Get the manacles.”

“Yes, Captain.” The goblin first mate smirked, clasping the cold steel manacle around the Handler’s ankle and trapping her to the table. “There, safe and secure.” 

“Close the door behind you, Zuum.” She snarled at the goblin as she eyed what was happening outside. “I wouldn’t want to be around me for very much longer.”

“Whatever you say, Captain.” She did as told, securing the locked door behind her. “Good luck~”

“I don’t need luck…” 

She took a deep breath, steadying her hands as she dipped her quill into the jar of ink beside her, preparing to press it into the blank canvas before her and begin her next portrait- Lyra Brandy.

“She does…” 

✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ ✧

“Hang in there just a little bit longer…”

She just stared through the window at the girl, Lyra Brandy, still tied to the mast, limp and seemingly lifeless from this distance. She had gone through a lot since midday, and now all she could do is lie there and wait. 

The Handler continued to dip her quill into the ink, hoping each time would be the last time until finally her first mate would come get her. A simple manacle couldn’t quite hold her back, but she knew that if she wasn’t very careful, she’d end up tipping her whole desk over and ruining the precious work of art that now sat atop it. 

But she just couldn’t wait any longer. 

With a click and a snap, she picked the lock to her manacle open, breaking her favorite quill and two of her hair pins to bits in the process.

She slammed the door shut behind her, stepping out onto the now mostly quiet deck, scanning back and forth across the horizon for her first mate. 

The makeshift gag had been forcibly removed from Brandy’s teeth quite some time ago, leaving her to drool down her chin as she hung from the mast unconsciously. 

But the rope around her wrists was still there. 

“Brandy?” She did her best to quietly nudge her awake, to no avail. “…Brandy?”

Hurriedly, the handler uncorked the bottle of vile liquid she had fed to the girl not even twelve hours prior, holding the open vile to Brandy’s nose.

“Nnnnghh!!” Brandy winced, slowly jerking awake, her neck sore as she struggled to look up at her captor. “Nnnnnn.. Captainnn…”

_ Swish _ . With one swift motion, the captain pulled her cutlass from the wooden mast and split through the ropes keeping her captive tied to it, letting her collapse to her hands at knees at her feet. 

“You’re not done yet.” She gritted her teeth, desperate to keep her eyes on her poor slave-to-be, lest she give into pity and cradle her back to her cabin. “You have to finish the walk of shame…”

“Y-yes, Ma…am…” She struggled to her feet for a few moments, before crashing back to her hands and knees. “Gah-”

“Captain Handler???” It was her goblin first mate, worriedly calling out to her from the deck ahead. “What are you doing out before-”

“Quiet.” She pointed her blade straight towards the other woman, giving the human beneath a gently nudge with her foot. “Crawl if you need to, but don’t hurt yourself.”

“Yes… Handler…” She swallowed her pain, eyes welling up with salty tears of hurt. “Where to…” 

“Normally slaves would crawl to that hatch.” She swiped her blade over the girl, pointing it at a metal grate in the floor between the mast and her office, before slowly raising it towards the door into her quarters. “But I want you to head straight into my cabin, got that?” 

There was a bit of a collective gasp amongst the crew around them as they all quickly came to an understanding as to why their captain was so quick to condemn getting the woman pregnant- she was the handler’s new trophy. 

“D-don’t you think you’re jumping the gun a little bit, Hjalla?” The goblin woman continued to protest. “I mean n-not only are you early, b-but…  **her?!** ” 

“I said  **quiet** .” Her voice commanded silence amongst her men and women- 

But not quite from Brandy, not just yet. “Hjalla?” And her new handler just smiled at that. 

“You may have  **once been** the famed lady captain- Lyra Brandy- but from now on, here with me… you are just one thing. Property of Hjalla.” She smiled, slowly lowering her sword. “Killer Backhand, Sword of Subjugation, Mistress of the Worst Nightmare. The Handler-  **Your Handler** \- Captain Hjalla Miserie… Are we clear?”

She paused, her heart squeezing in her chest as she looked up at Hjalla, nodding her head in agreement for the first time. “Yes…” 

Hjalla pointed her blade toward Brandy’s throat, gently lifting her chin up to look at her. “Are we clear, slave?” 

Brandy simply swallowed, careful not to impale herself on the captain’s blade. “Crystal clear… captain…”

“My slave… my quarters.” She pointed her blade to the door one last time. “Go.”

And Lyra Brandy did as she was told. “Yes, Ma’am…”


End file.
